X
by Abandon Structure
Summary: Max is as good as dead and Zack is at the mercy of Manticore. What remains of the original escapees group together to try and rescue their big brother and get revenge for all the ones who didn't make it.


**A/N: **My DA folder has been feeling a little underappreciated lately so I cobbled this together. I intended to create a long story for it, but I'm pretty swamped and pretty uninspired at the moment. So enjoy it as a one-shot with the possibility of TBC.

**Summary: **Max is in a coma, Zack is in Manticore, and the other siblings are massing together to try and come up with a plan to take it down.

_**Las Vegas, NV**_

He dreamt he was back in the tank, suffocating with the heaviest of pressure on his chest, pressing him down and making it impossible for his lungs to expand.

Panic – as fresh as it had been that first time – overwhelmed him and he instinctively lashed out, throwing his body to the side…

…and prompting landing face first on the floor.

"Ooomph!" And the mystery of the mysterious pressure was solved by the startled yelp and painful landing of his dog, Dutch.

"Ow," he groaned, pushing himself up onto his knees and giving his body a quick shake as he struggled to regain equilibrium.

"Phone," came the raspy voice from over on the bed.

"What?" He poked his head up, running a hand through his spiked bed-hair and squinting at the person lying there.

"Answer the damn phone, you dick," came the annoyed growl followed by a pillow that he just barely managed to duck.

"Good morning to you too, asshole," he muttered as he reached over and grabbed the phone.

"Yeah?"

Phone manners aside, it was a bad idea to answer the phone with your name for two reasons. A, because sometimes people used cell phones to determine if you're the person they're looking for, and B, because sometimes people misused cell phones because they don't care if you're the person they're looking for: they just want to talk.

"Get your ass up to Seattle," came a southern-bell distinctively hostile drawl that had him sitting back on his heels in confusion.

"Who the hell are you?"

"It's Syl, Zane," came the immediate reply which elicited an equally immediate reaction.

"How the hell did you get this number?"

"Zack," was her immediate reply.

"Zack," he repeated inanely, his gut sinking. There were two reasons – two ways – Syl could get have gotten his number from Zack. The first being that Zack had given it to her out of his own free will which was about as likely as Zane voluntarily turning himself over to Manticore or…

"Where is he? It he okay?" There was silence on the other end and Zane pushed himself to his feet, panic prompting him to motion. "Syl! Is he okay?"

The occupant of the bed was awake now, eyes alert and tracking Zane's motions, keen ears undoubtedly picking up on the conversation without even trying.

"No." Syl's voice was tight with a very real element of fear in her tone. "They have him. They got Zack."

Zane struggled with himself, hand tugging at his hair now as he executed another turn, pacing back towards the bed.

"Where? If he's still in transient, there's a chance we can get to him first – pull another Tacoma."

"No." Syl's response was fast – too quick.

"What happened?"

"We tried to take them down," Syl replied finally when the tension radiating down the line became too much for her. "We failed. Max is dead and they got Zack."

"Max is dead?" His legs buckled, gave way, setting him neatly down on the mattress.

"Your positions been compromised," Syl switched gears, voice growing firm on the more familiar grounds of military protocol. "You have to move."

"Where?" Zane rubbed the side of his face with his hand, too much hitting him at one time for him to process it all, so he went with the most pressing matter – escape.

"Seattle," Syl replied. "We're regrouping."

"We?" Zane jerked upright at that. "Are you insane?"

"I'm pissed," was the sharp furious reply. "And I'm tired of this. We have a plan."

"You had a plan," Zane interrupted. "And now Max is dead and Zack…"

"We have a better plan," Syl replied. "And we have resources now that we didn't before."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Seattle. Fogle Towers, the penthouse. Two days – be there. And bring Ash." She hung up without another word and he didn't even bother to question how she knew Ash was here with him.

"So what do you think?" He asked, turning to face his bedmate. "Should we listen to her?"

Syl wasn't a ranked officer – she was and always had been a middle-grade officer. The highest echelon – Zack, Max, Ben, Seth – was gone, missing. Which left them without a real leader unless…

"We can't stay here," was the reply as the other X5 pushed the covers away and got up.

"It's not smart," Zane's voice echoed into the bathroom as the shower turned on.

"Since when do we do smart?" Ash poked his head out of the bathroom with a wry grin, but there was no hiding the predatory gleam in his eye. "Besides – I'm getting tired of running. I'm ready to fight back."

Zane could feel an answer to the challenge rising inside his gut, electrifying his nerve endings and sending a dangerous score of adrenaline through his system.

"So fucked," Zane decided as Ash disappeared back into the bathroom.

He took two seconds to reorient himself after the dizzying rush of everything hitting his system before he rose to his feet and pulled out their duffels.

"What do you say, girl?" He asked, looking over at his dog. "You want to play in some puddles?"

* * *

_**Albuquerque, NM**_

She slept on the couch – she never slept enough to justify getting a bed – so when the phone rang, it was within easy reach.

"Hello?" She answered, half her attention on the phone, the other half on the television. It was Shark Week on the discovery channel and she was really getting into watching her finned brethren get their grub on.

"It's Krit," came the voice on the other end. "We need you in Seattle."

"Krit?" Jondy couldn't be more confused if Lydecker himself was standing in front of her, handing her a gun and begging her to pull the trigger. "How the hell did you get this number?"

"Zack. Manticore got him. We're mounting a rescue. You in?" Krit wasn't exactly the most verboise of her siblings, he was the most precise.

"Seattle?" Jondy was on her feet, reaching for her pants, her duffel, and her bike keys.

"Fogle Towers, the Penthouse."

"See you six hours."

She didn't bother to lock the apartment after her – there wasn't anything left behind that she wanted to keep.

* * *

_**Seattle, WA**_

_**Fogle Towers**_

"Well?" The raspy voice that haunted her waking nightmares and belonged to her worst one was like nails on a chalk board coming from the man standing next to her.

"They're coming," Syl couldn't hide her stab of anxiety as she glanced over at Krit, who had already finished his conversation with Jondy and was staring beyond Lydecker at the half-broken man who was completely wasted and passed out on the couch.

"How is he?" She asked.

"Breathing," Krit replied, turning his gaze away from the pitiful sight and refocusing in on Lydecker. "So what now?"

"Now we grieve," Lydecker replied, eliciting a disbelieving snort from Syl.

"Grieve?" The angry blond retorted. "You spent half our lives telling us emotions are weakness and now you want to us to break out in tears? You really have changed," but there was nothing complimentary about her tone and she stormed from the room, the words hanging in the air, echoing like the sound of the door slamming behind her as she exited the apartment.

"You'd better go after her," Lydecker stated, eyes on Logan. "Before she does something stupid."

Krit knew Syl – knew her almost better than he knew himself – so he knew he couldn't let her wander alone for long without major trouble happening, but at the same time he was reluctant to leave the bane of his existence with the one man who had the power to end this thing once and for all.

"Hurt him in any way and I'll kill you," he finally stated before walking out the door after his mate.

Lydecker said nothing in reply but as the door shut quietly behind the dark haired transgenic male, a small smile touched the corners of his mouth and even snaked into his eyes.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

_**Manticore**_

They had a limited amount of time to operate in – X5-599 knew the locations of all the other X5 escapees and Director Renfro was eager to make this as clean a sweep as possible.

"Congressman Hunt is on the phone for you."

Renfro's lips tightened slightly, the only outward sign of her irritation as she kept her gaze on the X5 strapped down on the other side of the window.

He had come in with two bullets lodged in his upper shoulder and a third one and just hedged by his spine and liver when he'd been shot again in the operating room. Renfro knew that he'd been trying to save X5-452, a curiosity she felt.

A certain degree of attachment was expected amongst the X5 platoons – they had to be able to trust each other to a certain extent, especially when operating in hostile environments, but the '09ers were different.

True, they'd shown an unusual degree of attachment during their childhoods, but they'd been out in the word operating solo for so long that the behaviorists had predicted it unlikely that those bonds would last.

Still, 452 had proven herself to be an invaluable piece of leverage which was why the female was now hooked up to a series of machines that kept her blood pumping through her body until Renfro could figure out how to best use her.

"How did he find out?" was the question she asked as electricity surged through 599's body, bowing his spine and tearing a hoarse scream from his already abused throat.

"Ma'am?" She resisted the urge to sigh at the tech's blatantly confused look.

"Tell him I'm busy," she replied. "I'll call him back when I can."

"Yes, Ma'am."

There was a mole in her organization and she felt another splurge of irritation as she crossed her arms and scowled at the X5 below.

_Lydecker was bad enough_, she thought, _but this one's worse._

At least with Deck she had him figured out. Military through and through, he'd become susceptible to what she affectionately termed CO Syndrome. He'd grown attached to his science projects to the point where he'd willingly committed treason to assist them in their hair-brained scheme to take down the Manticore Program.

"Idiots," she murmured, catching the eye of one of the aides and nodding for him to approach.

"Get me PSY-T098."

"Mia?" Renfro felt another wave of irritation that she just managed to suppress. Why the tech's insisted on calling the random genetic codings that made up what was essentially a living, breathing tool by that name she'd never know – nor did she particularly care.

"Her," Renfro agreed. "I want her to get whatever she can out of him in the next twenty-four hours and then I want him transferred to Discipline."

"Ma'am?" With all the other X5's they'd recaptured (a grand, whopping total of two alive, three if you included 599, and four dead) Psyops had been the first place they'd put them, beginning the reindoctrination as soon as possible.

But things were different now – 103, the one they'd called Kavi, had still be young when they'd recaptured him, still pliable enough to be formulated back into a fully functioning operational unit. 734 had been sick and weak both physically and mentally. Neither of them had had even a quarter of the defense mechanism 599 had trained into his mind.

Besides, the first time they'd recaptured 599 they'd tried Psy-Ops tricks.

"Our boys a tough nut to crack," Renfro replied, feeling generous enough to answer the aide's unspoken question. "I want his spirit broken and then we'll get to his mind."

"Yes, Ma'am." She'd upset the aide, not that she really cared. She upset a lot of people and if she stopped to really bother feeling bad about any of it she'd never get anything done.

"Give them five more minutes than bring in T098," she decided, turning away from the scene below as the scream of a dying animal tore through the small room. "I'll be in my office."

She had several very important phone calls to make, the least of which was the one concerning the now defunct genetics laboratory that was still smoldering.

**A/N: **Review?


End file.
